Shoulda Woulda Coulda
by Sophiasown
Summary: Michonne is marrying Mike and invited her best friend Rick to the wedding. Will he show up? How much does he really love her? Just a one shot written to 'Marry Me' by Thomas Rhett.


Rick continued to twirl the peach coloured, gold trimmed invitation between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand guided the steering wheel down the empty road. He read _her_ request for his knowingly reluctant presence eighteen times, nervous about where his inevitable acquiesce to her demand would land him. He was hopeful it was somewhere far into oblivion.

Rick didn't want to attend but he was tired of disappointing her, even if his appearance would be too little, too late this time. He was going to show up and hope the guilt of never being home didn't eat him alive when he left this time. The winding road rolled out before him, on and on like the neverending turmoil he experienced over not having her presence in his life anymore. She was a gift to be treasured, but he knew, he always knew he wasn't worthy enough to be her discoverer.

Michonne always wanted to get married. Rick's mind couldn't resist conjuring up the memory of their own wedding. It was stuck in the corners of his mind, from what felt like a lifetime and a half ago. Life was easy back then, simple. Their special day took place in her daddy's back yard. Michonne made Daryl create a trail with the orchid plants she and her mother proudly planted over the summer. She was so similar to the flowers she loved so much; precious and delicate, requiring care and attention to grow into her own. Sasha was her reluctant maid of honor, which was funny in itself because the Williams' girl was a tomboy through and through. Michonne demanded she put on a dress with frills and sparkles, the very thing she loathed. Daryl Dixon was the preacher; another oxymoron as Daryl grew up believing if there was a God he was certainly blind to his pains, so he held a comic book in lieu of a Bible and played the part well.

Rick of course was the happy groom. What started off as an evening of reading comic books together quickly turned into playing house, subsequently leading to an impromptu wedding of course. Rick didn't protest at the farce, he had been in love with Michonne Moore from the first day he met her on the school bus headed to the first day of fourth grade. She had the most penetrating spicy cinnamon eyes he'd ever seen. From that day his wild heart belonged to her. Despite the eventful turn of the day, the three friends all had one thing in common; they loved Michonne, so they did what was asked of them. Rick realized quickly he had the best task. They had their first kiss that sweet November day. She was only ten years to his twelve. It was the first of many ultimates they would share together as the years passed.

Their vows consisted of Michonne promising she would always share her gummy bears and he swore he would never make fun of her braces as long as she promised to stay beautiful forever. It wasn't much in terms of forever promises, but it was enough.

They weren't kids anymore now and Rick was on his way to watch Michonne marry someone else, when in the back of his mind he knew it should've been him.

….

"Breathe. Just breathe. In and out sweetie…..that's it. You're fine." Maggie soothed the smooth plains of Michonne's back. She inhaled and exhaled in the brown paper bag they scrambled to find when the expected anxiety hit her. Michonne felt the room grow large and excruciatingly small with every release and intake of air. This was her wedding day, there was no time for fear or apprehension. She'd been planning this for months, all her life really. It was all mapped out.

Michonne had flown to New York and acquired the perfect dress, she was getting married in the perfect place; her parents back yard, just like she imagined doing as a child. It was the perfect day, the sky was clearer than it had been in weeks despite the weather forecast prediction of rain. The sun hung proudly with promise that Michonne's wedding day would be as bright as her future ahead.

Perfection just like she required.

She was marrying the perfect man; Mike said and did all the right things, like he stepped out of a romance novel. He worshipped the very ground she walked on and ensured she wanted for nothing. Everything came together nicely. She didn't want to overthink it, but everything most certainly was as perfect like she'd dreamed.

Only Michonne was realizing slowly she didn't want perfect. She wanted imperfection.

"I'm doing the right thing right?" Michonne looked at Maggie, she was radiant in her olive green strapless bridesmaid dress. Maggie always told her the truth, even if she couldn't say it with her lips. Her emerald green eyes never lied to her.

"Mike is a great guy. He loves you." That was the truth. Michonne already knew that. She wanted her friend to tell her something she didn't know.

She adjusted the trail of her lily white strapless dress, giving Maggie the now crumpled brown bag. She sat at the intricately made vanity. Michonne stared at her reflection in the mirror, she was quite the exquisite bride with her nude makeup and red lipstick masking perfectly the sadness she tried so hard to suppress the past few days leading up to the wedding.

Andrea walked through the guest bedroom they had overtaken with the bottle of water she went in search of when Michonne began struggling to pull herself together.

"Here you go. You any better?" Andrea asked, her hemlock colored, strapless gown fitting her small frame body like a glove.

"She's gettin' there." Maggie spoke more out of hope than fact.

"Are you getting cold feet Michonne? Because everything is almost ready. Father Gabriel is here, everybody's seated. Mike and Terry are on their way. So…..what's up?" Andrea could see the hesitation on Michonne's face and everything clicked for her. Before she could ask the question she'd been holding back days now Michonne spoke up in a still small voice.

"Do you think he'll come?" She looked at her two friends with doe eyes. They wished they had an answer for her. The one she wanted to hear at least.

 _He_ was the dinosaur in the room, an elephant wasn't adequate to describe the impact of the void he left in her life.

"This is about Rick? He's why you're having second thoughts?" Andrea dipped to her knees, sticking to Michonne's side, hoping the eye contact would help her see reason.

"I….um sent him an invite….he never RSVP'd…," her words fell away with her remorse.

"Honey….we haven't heard from Rick in months. He hasn't been home for a visit in a long time. Maybe he didn't get the invitation." Maggie eyed Andrea, they both made an oath by telepathy to steer the bride away from this delicate topic.

"Maybe his absence will be a good thing." Andrea said wisely. The door opened again, Sasha came bouncing in, she was in a moss green version of Andrea's strapless gown, holding Michonne's pretty orchid bouquet in her hands along with her diamante lace veil. The accessories added some much needed sparkle in the dull room.

"I got it! Let's get this show on the road." She eyed the three somber faces and the gloominess settled on her too. " Ooookkkaayyy, this is a wedding, not a wake. Who the hell died?" She was deeply concerned, Michonne looked almost close to tears.

"He called a few weeks ago. Said he'd be here. He wouldn't not show up. Who would want to get married without their best friend?" It was a rhetorical question thrown out as she got up and stood by the window looking at the white garden chairs and the flowery decorated gazebo. All the guests settling in ready to see her become Mrs. Mike Oakland. It was uncanny, she was getting married the same place where she became Mrs. Rick Grimes, even if it was just pretend. She tried to pull up the day in question but she was sketchy on the details. Perhaps it was too painful to remember, so her brain in protective mode simply chose to forget.

"A girl's best friend should be squats, they hurt, but at least you know why," Sasha said unrepentantly. "Michonne….lets play this out." She moved towards her, her springy curls bouncing in unison as she walked. Maggie tapped her watch signaling to Sasha to make this life lesson a quick one. They didn't have much more time to play with before people started to get suspicious, namely their parents.

"Rick shows up at your wedding decked out in a suit looking like every girl's dream and every guy's nightmare. He objects to the marriage like a daytime soap opera, because you two have this forever love thing going on. Mike punches him out. You run off with him. What then?" Sasha's progressive hypothesis was a bit much, the last thing she wanted on her wedding day was drama.

"Um...Sasha, that's the type of drama you'll have on your wedding day," Andrea stated emphatically.

"Hey! I didn't choose the drama life. It chose me." That was her excuse and she was sticking to it.

"Well there's one way to know if you and Mike were meant to be," Andrea proffered as they all looked to her, hopeful she had some eureka advice to drop on them.

"How is the sex between you and Mike? Does he touch you there? Touch you deep within?" It was an inopportune time for a Michael Bolton reference piece but they caught her drift. Michonne contemplated the question, sex with Mike certainly wasn't bad. It wasn't the best she ever had either. He catered to her needs in bed, but she would be lying if she said she was always 100% there every time. Making love with Rick transported her to a different world. He had a way of knowing what she desired most, he knew the right things to say to elicit the response he wanted from her. Sex with Rick was a spiritual act more than it was physical. He knew how to touch her indeed. Michonne grew lost in the memory of the last time they made love. It was six months ago, they spent everyday together for the week he was back home. In the blink of an eye he was gone, she was tired of him taking a piece of her with him every time he left.

She met Mike a month after, in three months they were engaged. He was every country girl's dream, she was lucky to have him.

"Sex with Mike is sweet." She reluctantly answered because she didn't want to lie.

"Sweet? Sweet is for candy! Honey if he doesn't shake your world then is he your soulmate?" Sasha's tone was firm. She held strong to her conviction.

"You're supposed to be helpin'!" Maggie grinded her teeth, she spoke in a whisper to Sasha. "You wanna risk her marryin' the wrong guy today?"

"Mike loves her. Rick has always been her achilles heel." Andrea didn't want her friend to have an unpredictable future.

"Yeah well, she's always been the cure for whatever ails him." Even if his ailments lived in the deep recesses of his mind. They had an unbreakable bond that went beyond comprehension.

"I'm right here guys." Michonne didn't understand why they were whispering, she heard every word.

There was a knock on the door, Michonne's Dad peeked his head inside.

"You ready pumpkin?"

Michael Moore was a serious man with a weakness for his one and only baby girl. He was too happy and proud to give his daughter away today.

"Daddy give us five more minutes

We'll be right out," she said confidently, giving her confused heart five minutes to right itself.

"Michonne, look at me. Last week at Carol's Cakes, when you threw a hissy fit about not getting the cake you wanted and your bridezilla came, do you know what that man said to me? He said your passion for the things that matter to you is what makes him love you so much. I mean I thought he was bat shit crazy because what I saw was a glimpse into the poor guy's future -"

"You going somewhere with this Andrea?" Michonne asked slightly annoyed at the metaphor of choice.

"Yeah I am. You know I'm long winded. What I'm trying to say is the man loves you and maybe deep, deep down inside you love him too." She was trying her damndest here. The last thing they wanted today was a runaway bride.

"Michonne, if you can tell me the bad things outweigh the good things with Mike I'll go downstairs with you personally and tell all those people the wedding is off. But if the good outweighs the bad then marry him. Don't let a shoulda, coulda, maybe keep you from the man you're supposed to be with."

"I know you love Rick and maybe in some twisted way he loves you too, but he isn't here. He never stays in one place long enough to develop roots. You really wanna settle for a few days of paradise only to have it ripped away again? Honey, a bird and a fish can fall in love, but where would they build their nest?" Maggie was late to the clan, she was their voice of reason and much needed reality check among a team of dreamers.

Her friend was right, the basis of her hesitation was fear. Fear she wasn't making the right decision. Fear she wouldn't love Mike enough to be exactly what he needed in a marriage. Fear that, despite craving his presence, she knew seeing Rick would wreck the balance in her heart again. She knew Mike loved her, they could have a good life together.

Wherever Rick was, she wished him the best.

Their love was a frisbee, tossed and thrown about every which way. She needed to be caught and kept.

Mike wasn't the man of her dreams, but he was the man of her reality. It was so much better than holding onto a perpetual state of what ifs.

Michonne squared her shoulders, "Ok. I'm ready."

….

Rick sat in his truck on the street they all grew up on, feeling like a foreigner in a strange land. The heat of the day was beginning to cut through the air conditioning but he wasn't quite ready to go in. The shadows of his past clouded his vision as he thought about his dead parents who still haunted him today.

When he connected with Michonne the last time he fooled himself into being hopeful. His soul recognized the feeling of home in her. It was something that always had him without question, making him believe he could be normal at living. Settling down and having a family of his own, he saw that vision with her. He hoped this last time was their time, but his forever drunk father had done a number on him, chasing a dollar wherever the odd job sent him. His over dependent mother followed him wherever he went, leaving Rick with his aging grandparents which left him mostly on his own. He was free to roam. It wasn't that he didn't want to stay, it was he didn't know how to.

Rick craved the stability despite his job taking him far places for any number of days and weeks. He often considered if he was meant to have a decent life.

They had gone to Taffie's, their usual spot where a burger, fries and two chocolate milkshake were a staple whenever he was in town. He would splatter ketchup all over his fries, Michonne would squirt some at the side so she could dip her chips when she wanted. It was a visual aid to their disparity. Michonne craved order, Rick rolled with the punches.

He would eventually dip from her basket when his fries ended up in a sea of soup, causing her to erupt in a soulful, soothing kind of laugh. It was the kind of laugh that would make your heart grieve if you never heard it again. Her smile overwhelmed and satisfied him all at once. Once their meal was over he would go back to her place and spend the rest of the time they had making love. His lungs would quake and his chest would shrink at the feel of him inside her. It was a feeling of completion only her body could give him. Her soothing voice would calm him, he could listen to anything she had to say for hours on end. Soon though, he had to leave. It was why he couldn't make promises for tomorrow.

It wasn't long after their last argument and their last goodbye Michonne met Mike Oakland. His name was a forgettable one. Rick only remembered it because the words of the invitation had been stamped into his brain.

He wondered if Mike knew she had a love hate relationship with cooking. Did he know she laughed until tears came out of her eyes, that she hated confrontation, but loved to share what was in her heart once the conditions were right? Did Mike know Michonne was lactose intolerant, but couldn't stop eating ice cream even if she tried? Was he aware they had matching tattoos of each other's initials on their thighs, taken on a dare? Did her husband to be know she loved to dance under the stars and she had a weird obsession with the beauty of the moon?

Did he?

What Rick knew was, he wasn't living, he was simply breathing to death. He hoped Mike treated her well. Perhaps his presence meant more to her than Rick's absence did.

Rick wanted her to be happy, so he put on his best suit and showed up.

He opened the truck and stepped out, ready to watch the woman he loved all his life marry another man.

….

"What possessed ya?" Daryl masked his surprise as Rick dropped in the seat next to him. He didn't think he had the balls to come today. He slipped Rick a flask full of his favorite whisky from his jacket pocket. Rick eyed the silver flask and took a big gulp. Daryl understood the need to be numb better than anybody.

"She did," he stated factly, staring straight ahead. His eyes landed on Mike who was every bit the nervous groom. His best man patted his back in support. Rick couldn't help his clenched fist and tilted head.

It should've been him up there.

Michonne was big on tradition, so the familiar wedding march that began as everyone stood to welcome the bride was no surprise to Rick. Maggie, Sasha and Andrea were gorgeous as always. He couldn't view these girls as the grown women they were today. They would always be his little sisters. He didn't even know if he could claim that honor anymore, he was never home.

Mr. Moore spotted him in the crowd first and nodded at Rick as he clenched his daughter's hand. Rick and Michonne's father always had a good relationship. He dished out sombre advice at key times in Rick's life.

They were also both very protective of Michonne.

Ironic that her daddy wasn't the only one giving her away today.

Michonne was breathtaking in her white dress, it made her look like an angel among mere mortals. Her elegance surpassed the processing in his brain. Her beauty was almost hallucinatory in its intensity, he was speechless at the sight of her. Her skin was a blazing bronze, Rick was jealous of the sun who was lucky enough to have kissed her smooth skin. He knew she sensed him, they had a mind melding connection he hadn't found with anyone else. Even in all the places he'd been. The trivial acquaintances he had was to numb the pain of losing out on her. No girl had the right fit in his hands. Michonne left her imprint on Rick's heart, his body and his soul. No carbon copy would do.

Michonne missed a step when their eyes connected across the aisle. No words were spoken but every word was heard. He couldn't decipher the meaning behind her surprised gaze though; he supposed regret in inviting him in the first place, then resignation that this is how things would stay between them.

Unfinished. Incomplete. Torturous.

Michonne channeled her smile back and continued as the music played. A damp chill settled over Rick's heart. He wished he could've gone back in time and make amends for past mistakes. They would have made a go at it. He could've stayed. She would've been his anchor this time.

This. One. Last. Time.

Rick's lament was late. The revelations reeling in were useless, it would be remiss of him to think otherwise. His reality was crushed. He watched Mike take her hand from her father, he stared at her like a man in love. Rick was certain he could do a better job at looking at Michonne like his very breath depended on her existence.

Father Gabriel began with a rhetoric of love, as though Rick needed the slap in the face.

It was when Michonne looked at him from the altar one last time it resigned him to the fact he was like a man at the gallows. Dressed up in a fancy suit for his own funeral. Surely being a spectator while Michonne married another man would be the death of him. He couldn't do it.

He turned to Daryl who at one time had been closer to him than his own estranged brother and said to him, "Tell her I'm sorry." Sorry they didn't make it. Sorry he couldn't stay.

Daryl observed him silently, nibbling at the corner of his lips. "Why don't you tell 'er yourself!"

"Because I'm a coward who never deserved her."

With that he was gone.

….

Rick sat in their regular booth, unable to place an order despite Holly the waitress asking him twice if he was ready to decide. He was contemplating vetoing the regular and trying something new. Maybe an omelette or hash browns. It didn't seem right coming to their place and eating their special without her. The jukebox played a song of unrequited love and Rick figured God was laughing at the fool he was. He rubbed the nape of his neck, pulling his tie loose and throwing it on the table. He unbuttoned the first hole of his shirt, that's when he caught the familiar pretty blonde staring at him. She was two seats down and he vaguely remembered her name being Jessie.

His mind was too preoccupied to focus on easy distractions. Michonne would be married by now. On her way to some exotic location for a honeymoon. Rick's heart burned in his chest. His lungs felt punctured at the thought of their severed friendship. He had no one but himself to blame. He knew he would always love her, that would never change. Hopefully one day she could forgive him for being an idiot.

He wondered if he could still move back home now like he planned? Try to have a life. Love her from afar. Be on the outside of her inner circle. Or was he kidding himself into a slow death?

He had to try to move on. Michonne was married now and he needed to find a way to live. He was proud of her. She wanted a family of her own. She made a decision and stuck to it, even if it killed him in the process. Collateral damage for a solid choice made. He should try to settle down too. Live a mediocre life with a mediocre woman like the blonde in the plaid shirt. Anyone he chose from here on out would be mediocre.

Maybe he could.

A ringless, french tipped hand dropped a basket of french fries with ketchup splashed chaotically over the steaming potato in front of him. Two chocolate milkshakes with whip cream like mountain peaks rested on the table.

Rick looked up at the intrusion to his gloomy thoughts, his heart dipped staring into Michonne's wet, mascara streaked yet still stunningly beautiful face. She was still in her wedding dress. Her hand swiped her tears as she plopped down in the red leather seat opposite him and bared her soul.

"I couldn't." Was all she said.


End file.
